


Hot Dogs and Buns

by fangirlSevera



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dogs, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Shower Sex, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/pseuds/fangirlSevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot town, summer in the city, and Clint's A/C is broken.</p>
<p>Good thing he has a knight in a shiny, red, flying car who can whisk him and Lucky away to more favorable conditions.</p>
<p>A little summertime follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2716037">Dog Days of Winter</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Dogs and Buns

**Author's Note:**

> Although it is a follow-up to [Dog Days of Winter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2716037), you don't necessarily have to read all of that to understand this. 
> 
> All you need to know is that Phil has an English Bulldog named Captain. She is kind of Lucky's girlfriend.

Phil opens the door to Clint's apartment. Where the hallway is a touch warm, the room he walks into is something akin to a sauna.

Clint is lying face down on the floor wearing nothing but a pair of cut-offs so short that the pocket lining is poking out from under the scraggly fringe. There's a box fan on the floor, but any cool air the clicking blades are generating is being mostly blocked by Lucky. The dog is sprawling, tongue out as he pants. The water dish left by his head is sweating on its metal sides.

"Clint, are you okay?" Phil asks as Captain pads over and nudges Lucky with her nose and a concerned whine.

"No," comes the muffled reply.

"You're not answering your phone."

"Phone over there." Clint 's fingers twitch in a vague attempt at gesturing to the kitchen wall. "Staying here."

"Your air is broken," Phil easily surmises.

"Unh huh."

"Is it the entire building?" It's mid-July, and the temperatures are getting high enough that kids are cracking eggs on the sidewalks to see if they'll fry. The air is op p ressingly thick, making being outside intensely uncomfortable and sticky. Phil can't help but worry about the tenants who are too old, or otherwise ill, who could be at risk in this extreme heat.

"Nuh unh. Checked. Just me." With a drawn-out, agonizing groan, Clint turns himself over like a sentient, roasting chicken. His skin is glistening with sweat, his hair sticking up in haphazard tufts. It's a look Phil likes on Clint, but usually in completely different circumstances.

Captain is licking Lucky's face. He grumbles and shifts, making enough room for Captain to flop down next to him, sharing the fan.

Clint turns his head in their direction. "Shit, Phil, you didn't walk her here in this heat."

Phil takes a moment to be offended that Clint would ever think he could be such an irresponsible parent- er - Owner. "I took the car."

Clint frowns. "You can't park that car around here! They've probably stripped her bare the second you turned your back!"

"Not if I parked on the roof."

Clint's eyes light up. "Oh! You brought _that_ car."

"And I think I need to get you and Lucky in it, and get you some place habitable."

"Do I have to put clothes on?"

Phil shrugs. "I won't force you to do anything you don't want to."

Clint grins and rolls back onto his front. The way he bends his back as he gets to his hands and knees, his barely-clad ass thrust out in Phil's direction, may or may not have been intentional. But Phil is betting on the former.

"Hey, boy," Clint says to Lucky who glances up at him. "You wanna go for a car ride? Wait, are flying cars safe for animals?" Clint turns to Phil.  
  
"Very secure car harnesses. I just may have one that will fit Lucky." He bought it not long after first meeting Clint at the dog park. It had occurred to him then that it would be prudent to have proper safety precautions in place in case the SHIELD flying cars were ever needed to not only extract agents (or Avengers), but their pets as well. It was for perfectly professional, and not at all personal reasons.

Not that Phil can name for sure any other Avenger who has a pet. He's heard Hill mention the Widow having a cat. But those are unconfirmed reports.

At the words "car ride," Lucky had gotten to his feet, jostling Captain as he did so. His fur looks limp, but his panting took on a more excited and less exhausted air. A frequent flyer herself, Captain is less impressed with the idea, and stays in front of the fan.

"Okay, then. I'm gonna go change. Don't want to be sticking to the upholstery ." His nose wrinkles at the thought. "You get the kids strapped-in in the mean time?"

"Of course." Phil takes a step forward. He's been in Clint's presence for several minutes, and there hasn't even been a hello kiss.

Clint immediately steps back, though. "Ugh. No, too hot and gross for touching!" He sees Phil pout. "Once we're sitting in sweet, sweet, processed cold air, you can have your way with me."

With that promise, Clint walks further into his apartment. The exposed curves of flesh just above his thighs shimmy enticingly with every step. Phil pulls at his shirt collar, and forces his attention back to dogs.

Lucky is already at the door, pacing. With a snap of Phil's fingers, Captain gets to her feet. Lucky bounds out into the hallway and gets to the top of the stairs to the roof access first. Even after being inside Clint's stifling apartment, the outside is so much worse with the sun beating down, glaring off Lola's shiny, red surface. Phil winces and slides his sunglasses on.

Lucky jumps into the backseat of the car without waiting for Phil to open the door. Captain is not much of a jumper, so she sits politely and waits. She sits just as still once she's in the seat and Phil attaches the harness around her. Lucky wiggles around a lot, thinking it's some kind of game of letting Phil get one strap around him, then sliding out from another. By the time he gets the dog secured, there's gold fur sticking all over Phil's increasingly sweaty arms.

The roof access door clicks open. Clint immediately swears. He flings his arms up to cover his head. "The day star! It burns!" He as in a longer pair of shorts now, and a loose-fitting purple t-shirt. He hops into Lola very much in the same way his dog had. Sliding into the driver's seat, Phil notices it looks like Clint ducked his head under a tap. His hair is more damp than just from the sweat, and his face cleaner. "Get us out of here before we melt," he demands.

Phil turns the engine over, and pulls the lever that starts the thrusters. As the car begins to rise, Lucky barks. He's straining against his harness to look around at the buildings as they hover above them. Glancing back in the rear view mirror, he thinks Captain would be rolling her eyes and muttering "amateur" if she could.

There is no relief in the rush of wind as Phil navigates through the city. Phil lands in a deserted alley a couple blocks away from his building so he can discreetly drive into the parking garage. Just being underground, away from the sun, it already feels easier to breathe and move. Clint takes a deep breath of enclosed, fume-tainted air like he's in a springtime field.

Once inside Phil's fourth floor apartment, Clint falls to his knees and throws his arms out. "Hallelujah! Central air!"

Lucky barks in agreement.

Clint hops to his feet and grabs Phil by the shoulders. "We are now in an appropriate environment for intimate contact." The kiss is more of an over-eager mash of lips, but Phil doesn't mind. It's a perfect, happy, "Hello, I haven't seen you in weeks, and I'm no good at putting that feeling into words, so here's my face," Bartonesque kiss that Phil needs.

Clint pulls back and wrinkles his nose. "Ew, the sweat's drying on me now. I'm going to use your shower." He lowers his head to look through his (lovely, pale) eyelashes, and wiggles his eyebrows. "Care to join me?"

The few minutes spent outside, and coming back into his cool apartment has left an unpleasant residue on Phil, too. Nor could he say no to any time spent around Clint naked. Both their lives are hectic, beholden to no structured schedule, just the whims of the universe's megalomaniacs. Of the seven months they've been a couple, the cumulative time they've been able to spend together probably totals only in weeks.

"You go ahead. I'll be there in a minute."  
  
Clint gives him another quick kiss and swaggers towards Phil's bathroom. In the looser pair of shorts, it doesn't quite have the same affect as it did before.

Phil goes to the kitchen and refills Captain's water dish. He tosses Milkbones at the two dogs under his feet. They both manage to catch them in their mouths. He gives them congratulatory pets. He then makes a brief phone call, and finally follows Clint's trail of clothing to the bathroom.

Phil picks up each piece and folds them nicely, setting them on the closed toilet lid before stripping down himself.

He steps into the shower stall and his immediately wrapped in large, wet arms. The water is tepid, but feels good; refreshing. It's warmer where it slides between their bodies, pressed close as Clint devours Phil mouth. Clint had been part-way through washing, water and suds making an easy glide for Phil's hands to slip down the hard, firm planes of Clint's back, to finally grip the sweet, round globes that have been teasing him since he stepped foot into Clint's home.

Clint returns the favor, fingers digging in and pulling Phil against him, rocking and pressing their hips together. Phil gasps at the jolt of sensation, then moans as Clint takes advantage and licks into his open mouth. Heat builds between them, a far more enjoyable heat than they had been experiencing, and they melt against each other, soaking in each other's presence and strength. Phil can feel the way their hearts beat in tandem, slowing together as the water washes away the remnants of their coupling.

"You should have called me when you knew your air was broken," Phil was saying as they toweled off.

"I didn't know you were back yet." The sentence started muffled, then cleared when Clint's head popped out of his t-shirt.

"Or you could have just crashed here, whether I was home or not. I wouldn't have minded. You have a key."

Clint shrugs and pulls on his shorts. "Didn't want to presume."

Phil huffs, but fondly. "Mi casa es su casa. For you and Lucky."

Clint smiles in way that makes Phil wonder if he doesn't believe it. But he says, "Okay," anyway.

Exiting the bathroom, Phil offers Clint a choice of cold beverages. Clint takes a beer, and Phil pours himself an iced-tea. He carries the drinks to the living room where Clint is already sprawling on the sofa, bare feet propped on the coffee table. Unable to resist, Phil presses the side of the beer can into the bottom of Clint's foot. The resulting yelp is extremely satisfying.

Clint glares as he takes the can from Phil's hand. There is no doubt there will be payback.

They sit together, leaning into each other as they sip their drinks. In front of the entertainment center Lucky and Captain are dozing, Lucky half on top of the smaller, stouter dog.

"You ever wish we didn't get our dogs fixed?" Clint asks all of a sudden.

"You want Lucky and Captain to have puppies?"

Clint shrugs the shoulder not currently occupied by Phil's head. "I just think they'd be damned cute puppies. I uh-" He coughs and turns slightly pink. "I may have used Google images to see what Retriever- Bulldog mixes look like. Apparently they're called Bulladors."

"And when they're old enough, hand them out to our friends? Occasionally get the entire family back together at the dog park?"

Clint scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, doesn't matter does it. They can't have puppies."

"They could always adopt."

Clint snorts a laugh, choking a bit on his drink. "Careful. SHIELD probably has this place bugged with an agency psychiatrist listening in, all ready to tell you you're projecting."

"You're the one who brought impossible puppies up in the first place."

Phil's phone rings. Seeing the name on the screen, his heart stops for a second, believing Clint was right about the SHIELD bugs. "Director Hill," he says into the phone calmly.

Hill is not calm. "Care to explain why a SHIELD agent, under your orders, is currently at your boyfriend's place, fixing the air conditioning? And I would love to hear how it is not an abuse of SHIELD resources and your position."

"I sent Agent Fitz on a mission vital to the continued health and well-being to an Avenger and occasional SHIELD asset. We don't outsource to civilian companies when we need to do upkeep on quinjets, do we?"

"I hope he's sitting right there, hearing you compare him to a quinjet. Fine, you've convinced me this time not to have you written up. Barely. Also, no more using Lola's flying abilities for booty calls. The fuel's coming out of your paycheck." She disconnects the call.

Phil sighs.

"I'm like a quinjet, huh?" Clint says with false nonchalance.

Phil sighs again. "I’m going to pay for that, aren't I?"

"Don't forget the little gag with the beer can."

  
====

  
One month later, the temperatures settle down into something livable again. A cool breeze heralds in the return of Autumn. Phil has a steaming cup of coffee and opens the door to his small patio to take in the fresh, morning air.

Only to have the coldest, most freezing water pour all over him and his mug. Captain, who had been at his heels, jumps back and starts barking at the perceived attack. The breeze picks up and Phil shivers.

Looking up, he finds a plastic bucket attached to the side of the building, rigged-up to tilt when the patio door slides open. Phil dumps his ruined coffee into the potted plant that was dying anyway, and climbs up on the chair he keeps out there to take the bucket down.

Written on the bottom of it in permanent marker are the words: "MISSED YOU!" With the O shaped like a heart.

Phil grins. He steps back inside and pulls off his sopping shirt and reaches for his phone. _Missed you, too._ He texts.


End file.
